For 65 years and counting, Burk Uzzle has been behind a camera. Whether he was photographing Vietnam, hippies at Woodstock, the death of MLK, or the disenfranchised masses not pretty enough for Vogue, this slightly built, energetic, and kind man was behind the iconic images that tell the story of the last 50 years in America.
At 23, this skinny kid with a bike basket full of cameras somehow got hired as a photographer for Life Magazine. From there, Uzzle took his love of photography and honed it into a surgical instrument that could isolate the most critical moments of the day. But, F11 AND BE THERE is about the man as well as his art. A man that today, in his 80s, is still out making images, honoring the people he photographs, humanizing those left behind by the American Dream. There is a craft to that, and maybe a little luck.
Back in the days when photography was all chemistry and shutter speeds, f11 was considered the workhorse of aperture settings. (The f-stop is the size of the opening at the lens, which regulates how much light hits the film.) There is an animated segment in the movie where Uzzle runs down the cameras he's used over the years—none of which had auto-focus. He had to manually check exposure, adjust aperture and shutter speed appropriately, then focus and hope he was close. He got a measly 36 shots on a roll of film, and then he had to reload his camera—a process neither fast nor easy on the fly. There was no checking images on an LCD screen on the back of the camera after a shutter click. Unless you were developing your own film, it was sometimes weeks before you would know if you got it right. And when you're shooting news, there are no retakes. Learning your craft was a huge part of being a professional photographer, and as Uzzle points out, having something exciting happening in front of your camera is also essential: "F11 and Be There."
As a life-long photographer, the technical aspects of this movie made me swoon. This documentary drove home the humanity of a man who knew how to "be there." In his studio, he brings "there" to him. Watching him work with people well outside of his demographic brings into focus why this man has had access to the hearts of those of us raised on his images, and those whom he renders now into artistic immortality.
Today, his studio is equipped with all the latest technological pieces of equipment that can be had. But, he still has the Nikon he dropped into the Mekong Delta while getting away from sniper fire. He handles it lovingly as he tells the story of reviving it after it drowned in saltwater. Any photographer who has ever had a favorite camera will weep silently and cling to the hope that if the day ever comes when they slog their camera-bestie through the dirt, it too will rise from the muck.
It is trite and annoying to hear those bemoaning the ubiquity of cellphones and digital cameras, not that they are wrong. Not that I don't do the same. To excess. Point, shoot, don't give it another thought. The suspense of waiting for your film to come out of the developing tank or back from the drug store is now a quaint shadow. The craft of photography can be enjoyed by anyone with a selfie stick. But, is it a craft? Some will always make their pizza from scratch and organic basil grown on a windowsill, and some have Domino's on speed dial.
I spent my 20s in a photo lab, processing sports group shots and restoring old photos. We used a three-hair brush and SpotTone ink to recreate the grain of film in damaged relics. Hours were spent behind magnifying headgear, arguing about what cassette tape would play next (Dear, God. Not March of the Blue Turtles AGAIN) and trying not to kill people who bumped into the table. This was long before Photoshop could remove a dust spot with a mouse click. I still do a lot of my photography with a trusty digital camera, but I enjoy the meditative process of using my film cameras to create images that will be revealed in the future.
A segment of the documentary follows Uzzle around the US in his van as he creates images with a view camera that uses a big-assed 8”x10" negative—a deliberate and physically demanding process. This man is not relying on the technology that drops 60 million pictures on Instagram and a third of a billion pictures on Facebook EVERY DAY. He is going back to the roots of what gave him the vision that brought him into his amazing life. He encourages burgeoning photographers to examine the works of important painters, wandering back hundreds of years before "Point de vue du Gras" (1827)—the oldest known photograph.
It is said that everything is derivative. Even if you are the one from whom much is derived, that doesn't excuse you from honoring your ancestors. Knowing and practicing such things permeates an artist's work and makes it more personal, and that can be felt a little more deeply by those experiencing the art. Not everyone strives to that sensitivity, which means one must embrace it on their own, making it all the more critical. This in no way advocates eschewing modern tools and work. Hanging with the old masters speaks to a more holistic understanding of what one practices today. When I started working in movie theaters as a projectionist, I handled miles of 35mm film every day. We had carbon arc lamps that spit and sparked with deadly amperage, and most of being a projectionist was listening, knowing the sound of a bad splice going over the aperture plate or an intermittent that's low on oil. That doesn't mean I can't change the bulb in my new digital projectors. But, the old habit of walking into the auditorium and making sure the show is at its best and manually lowering and raising the lights keeps any projectionist more engaged with the process of showing a movie. I want to think that Uzzle still habitually starts every shoot by setting his camera to f11 before even picking up the light meter.
F11 AND BE THERE is about a man who took his art to the world. He did it with heart and skill. Even if a viewer doesn't know the difference between a shutter release and a lens cap, the emotion and depth of Uzzle's life's work will resonate with anyone who has a passion. The psychology is the same, whether it's cooking or canoeing. One needn't be a rock climber to appreciate El Capitan, or pack around a 4x5 view camera to feel the love of a man in love with the human race.
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